


Riding Radiowaves

by action-cat (clytemnestras)



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Killjoys, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Pete Wentz, Other, Polyamory, Threesome, Trans Character, Trans Kobra, Trans Mikey Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/action-cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two days is a long time to steal from the desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding Radiowaves

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for non-sexual masturbation, descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of ftm surgery and puberty/hormone blockers, threesome sex.
> 
> (pov dmab genderqueer character)

Crash Wolf coasts over the sand with a broken boombox strapped to their shoulders and it holds them upright under the weight of the wind and the weight of themself. The bike splutters and groans under their thighs and the sun threatens to fall off the horizon and all the desert seems to ache with longing and long distance and missyoumissyoumissyou running baseline through their skull. It drives them forward more than the struggling engine ever could.

 

They stop out in a beat down shed on the edge of one zone and the next, full of holes and jagged points and _"Disaster Boy was here"_ blade-scratched into the wood. Gabe still claims he built it with "aching fingers and pure sense of Will." William's zonerunner name is notable in it’s absence.

 

((Wolf can’t remember the last time they went by anything but their zonerunner alias. If they're gonna choke on any name when the dust settles, it may as well be one that they carved into their own bones.))

 

They fiddle with the radio until it groans with static, the signal shaky at best. The Good Doctor's voice rasps lowly under the white noise.

 

_".....ghosted on the slick, but succeeded by the shrapnel.......on the edge of zone three, Sleepover Prince still hanging on the throne.... Kobra out of the ssssssnakepit and into the charmer's basket....good luck motorbabies, the night's still young and sober...."_

Wolf falls asleep, smiling faintly.

 

**

 

The food is running low and the last of the nutrition pills looks up at Wolf achingly in the otherwise empty purse.

 

They think they can wait another half day.

 

Butterflies flutter quellingly at the nauseous ache in their guts anyway.

 

The light filters weakly through the holes in the roof but fails to warm their burnished skin where it peaks from under their shirt and boxers. Too-tight jeans are tugged on that sculpt their hips into rounder shapes, the smooth leather jacket falsifying soft curves.

 

When Wolf catches their reflection on the window glass, their skin feels less tight.

They slip the penknife from their jacket pocket with a smile and strikes through _“Disaster Boy was here”_. Underneath, they carve:

_where is your boy 2nite_

_I hope he is a gentleman_

_xo CW_

Wolf laughs all the way along the highway.

 

**

 

The dustbowl is silent and empty.

 

Wolf doesn't have the patience to push down disappointment. It's been too long for that, and tense arms miss being wrapped around a different body.

 

Dr D had said Kobra was on his way, and yet. Panic settles lowly in Wolf's belly, battering against the hunger and ever-present nervous ache.

 

They fiddle with the radio, setting it down beside the bike in the sand. Lowly sloping dunes keep them concealed but also screw up the signal, and it seems like hours before they strike a working frequency.

 

Fuzzy guitar music groans at them, distorted and jarring. Wolf fusses with the mask over their eyes, tugs a lazer gun into their hand and tries not to fall asleep. They wake up to a kick in the ribs.

 

“Bang bang, you’re dead, Sleeping Beauty.” Kobra grins down at them, brushing the hair from his eyes. Wolf can’t be sure how they ended up in his arms but they cling on desperately, climbing Kobra like a tree and inhaling the smell of cigarettes and motor oil and something earthy that chases after the sterile stink of BatCity from Wolf’s skin.

 

“Missed you. Missed your smell, fuck.”

 

Kobra laughs as wolf clambours around until their settled on Kobra’s back, legs wrapped around his waist. “That is very weird and I am very glad. Now can we get the fuck outta this crater and into somewhere with a bathtub because I may smell good to you but you smell like the ass end of a dog.”

 

Wolf snorts and buries their face in Kobra’s neck. “You say the sexiest things.”

 

“Damn fuckin’ right. I know a safehouse nearby, a friend’s housesitting. One bike would be better than two, though…”

 

“Pillion!” And then they’re both sat on Kobra’s bike, Wolf’s thighs wrapped around his and none of the rationalisations that keep them on opposite sides of the desert make any sense. The sands roll by and safety and family and all their other lives mean less than the sparse clouds in the peach sky.

 

Wolf leaves fingernail marks in Kobra’s leather jacket.

 

**

 

The diner is empty when they arrive, red and dusty and lived-in. Kobra slashes an indiscriminate shape into the door frame with a pocket razor and Wolf knows a runner will relay it to Doctor D, to tell his family they're safe. Wolf doesn't bother with the same. Their last note - that's all that matters.

 

The lights flicker uselessly and the booths by the back room are covered with duvets. Three cans of beans rest on the counter, labels warped and tins battered - castoffs.

 

Wolf picks one up as the hunger roars in their stomach again and Kobra crowds up behind them, arms around their waist.

 

“Did I mention my friend was a smuggler?” Kobra nuzzles at Wolf’s throat and Wolf hears themself whine from somewhere distant and abstract. They feel Kobra’s smile as it’s pressed into their neck, kissing softly before pulling back.

 

“Let’s get you washed and into bed. Fuck, I’m tired and Poison won’t let me cuddle with Ghoul anymore since I gave him that stupid throat infection - called me ‘a danger to his fragile health’, the fucker. I miss hugs. I miss yours.”

 

The noise from Wolf’s throat is wounded and high, and they clutch the beans to their chest.

 

“Or we could eat first?”

 

They grin. “Serve me the finest out of date beans in the kingdom, m’lord.”

 

Kobra releases them and goes in search of cutlery. The absence of body heat is a physical blow to Wolf’s chest and they shiver before slumping onto a stool.

 

“Hey”, Kobra says, peering up at them, over the countertop and sliding over an open can, fork poking from the top. “Don’t think I’m not on to you. You’re still having a bath.”

 

Wolf shovels a forkful of beans into their mouth and chews with a lewd noise. “Is this bath talk all a plot to get me naked?”

 

“Maybe?” Kobra smiles.

 

“Nice to know your weaknesses haven’t changed along with your haircut.”

 

**

 

Wolf lets Kobra wash them in the small tub in the corner of the bathroom, and his fingers linger longer than they need to as they drift along Wolf’s body. Wolf hums and sinks into the sensations.

 

Kobra ducks thier head under the water then pulls them up and hauls their lips together. It’s the first time they’ve kissed in two months, and it feels like they never stopped.

 

They part slowly, breathe into the space between their mouths. When wolf breaks the silence with a yawn, Kobra tugs them into a towel to dry them off carefully and then pulls them back into the booth, lined with duvets and pillows.

 

 _“Wolf.”_ Kobra whispers absently, pulling Wolf closer into him. It’s the first time either of them have used names, and the thought worries at Wolf’s innards. They don’t know Kobra’s name,  just his alias, and Kobra doesn’t know theirs. And it is better and worse than with Gabe who knows every nerve and tendon of Wolf, inside and backwards and alternate. Kobra knows the parts that are real and the parts that matter, and Gabe cradles the parts that don’t and protect them from the outside world.

 

“ _Love you_ ”, Wolf whispers back.

 

They don’t remember falling asleep.

 

**

 

Wolf wakes up slowly and stares blearily at the back of their eyelids, hoping it will go away.

 

It doesn’t.

 

The blockers ran out six months ago. Now Wolf feels completely out of control, their body flooded with hormones that make them feel sick and out of place and foreign in their own skin.

 

They unfurl themself from under Kobra’s spindly limbs that pin them to the warm body they’ve ached to be close to and it’s just so wrong and Wolf wants to throw up. Acid flutters in their stomach and climbs up their throat. Once they’ve stumbled into the bathroom they manage to tug down their boxers without opening their eyes and curl a hand around themself.

 

Their eyes don’t open again until wetness splashes into the sink.

 

The spiky nausea fades a few minutes later, and they slide out of the bathroom and back into the bunk. Kobra doesn’t wake when they slide back in, body cool from the drafty room beyond the blankets. Within moments, limbs are piled atop them again, curling them closer into Kobra’s body.

 

Sleep is easy, again.

 

**

 

Someone is breathing in Wolf’s face.

 

Kobra’s head is pressed against their back and his arms are curled around Wolf’s belly and Wolf opens their eyes a second too late to duck from the kiss.

 

“I’ll have you know I’m always a gentleman, my little Wolfcub, but I liked the sentiment.” Gabe - _Disaster Boy_ grins at Wolf where they’re peeking from the duvet.

 

Boy tastes like sugar and something chemical. Wolf shoves him away and rolls over.

 

Boy laughs and stretches out alongside the two of them in the booth, crushing Wolf into Kobra and generally taking up too much room with his over-stretched limbs. Kobra groans and sits up before he opens his eyes. Wolf is almost certain the first thing he notices are Boy’s hands framing Wolf’s hips because he stiffens for a moment, blinking back sleep, then climbs over wolf and into Boy’s arms.

 

“You fucking asshole.”

 

“Ask me later when I’ve showered. I’ll treat you real nice.” Boy’s grin is audible and seems to touch the room like the daylight cascades through the windows.

 

Wolf snorts and rolls back over, facing the two men. “Like fuck you will.”

 

Kobra slides down until he’s fit between both bodies, but he presses his face against Wolf’s. “So I take it you know my smuggler?”

 

“I know everyone and everything.” Everyone is pressed close and they’re warm and soft and a sense of home flickers along the edges of Wolf’s consciousness.

 

They shove that thought into the abyss and try to quell the ridiculous fucking elation flooding their system. These two lives were never supposed to overlap, and yet Kobra is breathing against their neck and Gabe - no, Boy, he's Boy for now and ever after and Wolf is Wolf - is pressing a hand to the small of their back and keeping all three of them squashed together and everything blurs into slowly synchronous breaths and heartbeats.

 

Wolf thinks they may fall back to sleep, lullabyed by twinned feet and exhalations, but can't be sure either way.

 

((Wolf has slept more in the last two days then in the last two months. Their body groans its thanks with muscle aches and greater apathy. Wolf doesn't want to complain.))

 

**

 

Afternoon sunshine prods Wolf's eyelids and hushed chatter from somewhere both close and distant.

 

Kobra and Boy are draped over opposite sides of the counter, sipping at what smells like lukewarm coffee, hands touching idly. Wolf watches them in silence, wonders - wonders who they are. If Kobra is more to Boy than he is to them - if Boy is less to Kobra than he is to Wolf.

 

There are two people in the diner, a soulmate and a stranger, and hazily Wolf wonders if the one they call a stranger is also the one they call boyfriend. History spins out beneath them, floods their mind with darkened nights and hugs and silence - tracing scars and whispers of surgery and knowledge that belongs to Wolf and Wolf alone.

 

They don’t entirely realise they’re awake until Kobra presses a warm, chipped mug into their hands and even just the scent of hot-wet caffeine has their nerves perking up. They take in the smile Kobra gives them along with the cup and lean up for a kiss.

 

Boy whistles his appreciation, and Wolf flips him off.

 

Kobra curls up around them and the world seems closer to right.

 

**

 

Boy kisses like it's a dare and a promise entwined in something addictive.

 

((Boy doesn't kiss anything like Gabe.))

 

Wolf's mouth surrenders underneath the kiss and they just try to keep breathing as Boy paints himself over every part of them. Kobra's arms are tight around Wolf's shoulders and the room is made of shallow breaths and heat.

 

Shivers pass through Wolf anyway. Boy licks inside, teasing against their tongue and they’re lost in the soft warmth of it. It’s so easy to get lost in Boy, to fall away with every lick to the seam of their mouth, every tug of teeth at their bottom lip. Wolf gasps into Boy’s mouth, feels how Kobra pulls them closer, breathing heavily.

 

Boy pulls back with a slow smile, face flushed and pupils blown. “I need to - _fuck._ ” He cups Wolf’s jaw, leans in closer. “Why haven’t we been doing this forever?”

 

“I don’t -”

 

The sentence has no end because this has no end, or even a start. History sluices off them and there is nothing but three bodies and each point of contact between them. Boy leans over Wolf’s head and slides his lips against Kobra’s. It could be their first or thousandth kiss, wet and filthy and desperate. Wolf can’t help but rock between them, pressing as close to both bodies as they can get. They tug at Boy’s shirt, fingers fluttering at frayed seams, and Kobra reaches for Wolf’s.

 

All three fumble with their clothes, losing focus when they skim against exposed skin then Boy is crowding Wolf into the booth, Kobra presses against their side, pressing his mouth to Wolf’s chest and mouthing softly. Wolf moans and searches Boy’s eyes, wonders if he knows about Kobra’s past - if he’s seen the twin scars on Kobra’s breasts. Boy stares back, hungry and focused and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters but the lips on their skin and the hands on their hips and this - this time it feels okay.

 

Not wrong or out of control. This feels. This feels like it’s everything it’s supposed to be.

 

The three of them twist until Wolf is sat on the edge of the booth, Kobra settled between their legs and looking up with a smile. “Hi there.”

 

“Hey”, Wolf breathes as Kobra’s mouth engulfs them in soft heat. Boy looks down at both of them and makes a low sound.

 

“You two - fuck. _Te quiero_ , you’re so pretty.” His hands run through Kobra’s hair, tugging lightly and Kobra groans, vibrating against Wolf and God nothing could feel as good as this does.

 

Boy sinks down behind Kobra and Wolf's eyes flutter shut before everything is too intense and heady. Their hips stutter mindlessly, begging for more soft heat as bright-hot sensations flood every nerve and cell and a hand wraps around them, pushing their hips back into the seats.

 

Kobra pulls off and sighs into Wolf's thigh, panting, and Wolf meets Boy's eyes over Kobra's back. Each let out a shaky breath, then it's the three of them surging forward and chasing oblivion with roaming hands and rolling hips.

 

When the brightness fades from the back of their eyes, Wolf is awoken by kisses. They don't look to see who from.

 

Bundled between two warm, sated-soft bodies, they slip again into hazy sleep.

 

**

 

The knowledge that this day is their last filters icily through Wolf's bloodstream and jerks them awake before the stars have faded into daylight.

 

The diner looks ghostly blue in the twilight, it makes the contrast of their skin tones more vivid and stark. They like it, the way the three of them look, tangled in colour and sweat and longing.

 

Boy lifts his head and blinks blearily at Wolf, curling his arms tighter. "Whassup?"

 

Wolf sighs. "Kobra has to go back today, the Killjoys have a major heist at a BL/Ind fac between BatCity and the outerzones. Our lost weekend is finally being lost."

 

Kobra mumbles something in his sleep, snuffles and presses closer, legs pinning wolf to the bunk.

 

Boy laughs and presses a kiss to Wolf's temple. "I think he's making the most of the time you have left." He shifts, releases his hands from where they imprison Wolf's chest and moves to get up.

 

"Ga - _Boy._ Stop. Stay, please?"

 

His face softens. "For you, little Wolfcub, anything."

 

They settle back against the sheets, the duvet cocooning them in warmth and each other.

 

"I'm never getting rid of you now, am I?" Wolf whispers against Boy's throat.

 

"Not with all the antibiotics in the city."

 

They breathe each other's air until Kobra blinks awake.

 

**

 

Breakfast is silent and soft. More beans, more coffee and a delicate balance between comfort and foreboding as Wolf and Boy press their knees into Kobra's from opposite sides.

 

They don't talk, much. They fill the space with drifting touches and meaningful stares, fill the time with damp washcloths passed between the three of them in the pretence of cleanliness. Wolf runs the flannel gently over Kobra's chest and traces the faint pink scars, remembers the rough binder-pinched skin that used to cover it. Kobra presses their fingers to his lips.

 

Dry and warm and sated, Kobra walks outside and checks his bike, offers a ride to Wolf back to the dust bowl where theirs waits and rusts.

 

Boy's arms around Wolf's waist may be the only thing that stops them.

 

Kobra kisses them both, whispers _"I love you"_ into Wolf's hair and everything is too simple and too hard all at once.

 

Boy clutches them tighter as Kobra skirts off the edge of the horizon. It's a long time before they move back inside.

 

**

 

Static whines from the boom box as Boy pulls it off the stool and straps it to Wolf's back. Low whispers crawl out from it, nothing they can make out.

 

It's better to just believe Kobra's safe.

 

They'll go back with Boy tonight, steal some food from the city's cargo vans as they trek between this desert and the next, then disappear off alone selling the haul to get by. Until the next job, at least. Until the next weekend.

 

Wolf zips up their jacket, watches Boy rev up his bike.

 

_Crash Wolf and Kobra Kid and Disaster Boy were here_

 

\- they carve onto they diner counter, ready to leave.

 

_A love story for the century_

 

 


End file.
